


new eyes.

by SofiaEzra



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: M/M, but they don't know that they're pining, childhood friends to lovers au, i don't know how to tag mecs, introducing sexual tension, it will be soft, minimum angst, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 02:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18907708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SofiaEzra/pseuds/SofiaEzra
Summary: It's almost been 10 years, and while everything look just the same, there's not a doubt that everything has changed.orLucas and Eliott were childhood friends but lost contact when Eliott had to move almost 10 years ago.Now it's summer and both boys have found their way back to their hometown. Lucas is forced to return by his friends, and Eliott to help his parents move back into their old house. Introducing pining, unspoken words and sexual tension.





	1. New Eyes: 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii mecs! 
> 
> It must be said, that I have never been to Amboise before,,, I literally just googled 'towns in central France' and voila! 
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes in terms of grammar, English isn't my first language - and I don't understand how commas work in English ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Please enjoy!!!

Lucas was bitter. Very bitter indeed.

After all, he didn’t want to spend his precious summer back in him and his friends’ hometown but the pressure from the boys and the wide-eyed look and constant begging from Daphné had left him unable to shoot their idea down – and look where that got him. Stuck in an old and small car with a broken AC, squeezed between a hungover Emma and a complaining Basile. Bitter indeed.

If Lucas wished hard enough he could almost imagine himself in the car trailing behind them. The car was smaller, sure, but it was probably calmer than the car-of-doom Lucas was stuck in, due to Manon’s sheer presence and persistence to drive in silence. After a particularly hard wail from Basile, Lucas’ was longing for the soothing tranquility of the other car so much, he was sure he could feel his heart drop into his ass.

After almost three hours of nonstop complaining from Basile, ‘ _the weather’s killing him’, ‘the seats are too hard’, ‘the drive is taking too long’,_ Emma loudly filling a plastic-bag with the remnants of her stomach and Arthurs horrid choices in music blasting from the speakers, _who even listens to dupstep anymore? That shit should’ve been left in 2012_ , Lucas was relieved to see the sign that declared they were about to enter the town of Amboise.

Relief. A feeling he never would have imagined running through him upon returning to the town he used to call his home.

As the car moved from the outskirts of town towards the center where they had to drop off Emma, it became glaringly obvious that absolutely nothing had changed about Amboise in the years they had been gone. The flower shop had the same sign as four years ago, the butcher still had that disturbingly detailed poster of a cow’s anatomy. Through the windows of the library they could even see the same stern old woman that had thrown them out of the library more times than they could count, and the tourist office was still painted in a horrid shade of yellow.

The houses looked the same. Same paint, same names on the mailboxes, the same cracks and dents in the walls. Even the people on the sidewalk looked the same. And for some reason Lucas was filled with dread as they dropped Emma off: the plants in the Borgés’ windowsill was still as brown and wilted as when Lucas helped Emma move the last of her boxes out. Like four years hadn’t even passed.

The dread weighed heavier and heavier until it curled itself into a ball in Lucas’ stomach when Arthur and Basile had been dropped off. And no surprise, nothing had changed at their homes either. Arthurs house had the same red door, same untrimmed hedges and toys littering the front-lawn. Basiles mom was still as adamant on her mission to trim all her flowers and bushes as she been the summer they had graduated. Had time stood still for four years?

As Yann took a turn down a street, _that_ street, _the street everybody in town wished they lived on, with big houses, big yard and sleek, fancy cars,_ the knot of dread exploded, turning every crevice and nook of Lucas’ body numb with anxiousness, Yanns voice full of excitement of being back nothing but a small murmur. And as they passed _that_ house, _the house where Lucas could still hear the warm laughter of an old friend, the house where Lucas had his first kiss, shy, dry and fleeting, the house where memories of grey eyes and unruly hair had lingered for almost 10 years_ , it was as if _that_ house was the only thing in the small town that hadn’t been captured in a time pocket. It was everything expect the way Lucas remembered it. The once grey house was now painted a blinding white, the windows were bare, the front lawn unkept, no cars in sight, and a sign was planted near the sidewalk, blue and white with a red _sold_ across.

The car and Yann continue to move forward, and Lucas was forced to look away. Hazy memories weave themselves into his conscience, and Lucas remember a small boy chasing a butterfly and stumbling into a taller kid, _“I’m Eliott”._

Later the taller boy, _Eliott_ , gifting the small boy, _him_ , a stone _“it’s a special stone! It’ll keep your nightmares away!”,_ Lucas tells nobody, but he still has that stone.

Eliott at the age of 12 trying to draw a portrait of Lucas, ending in the two boys covered in paint and two handprints hidden on the inside of Eliotts closet, _“we’ll always be beside each other now”_.

Lucas, age 11, trying, and failing, to teach Eliott basic biology, _“I’ll be an artist Lulu, I’ll never need this! And I’ll paint a thousand portraits of you”_ , loud, warm laughter at Lucas’ unimpressed face.

A 12-year-old Lucas and 13-year-old Eliott whispering under a star-covered ceiling, fingers grazing each other, _“Will we always be friends Eli?”, “Of course Lulu! We will be best friends forever and ever and ever”,_ fingers interlocking.

Later in the night when they’re giggling under the covers in Eliotts bed, grins wide on their faces, sleep a distant thought, “ _Have you had your first kiss Eli?”, “No, not yet. Have you?”,_ a nervous swallow, _“No… But Daphné says she wants to kiss me”, ‘but I don’t want to kiss her’ he almost says._ Grey staring into blue. _“Do you want to have her as your first kiss?”,_ silence and then a whispered _“No”, “Who do you want to give your first kiss to anyway?”,_ another nervous swallow, _“I was thinking maybe you? Just so I don’t-“,_ two slow blinks, then a shy and quick press of lips.

Lucas was 13 the last time he had been in _that_ house. The house, which had been so vibrant and colorful, was painfully bare and empty. Nothing but a few boxes in the hall. _“It’s only Paris we’re moving to, only three hours away. It’s not like we’re leaving the country”,_ forced laughter from both the small and taller teen. Silence, and unsaid words. The sound of locking a door, a bejeweled hand on the older teens shoulder and a call from the car.

 

“ _Don’t forget me Lucas”_ , wet eyes.

 

“ _I could never forget you Eliott”._


	2. New Eyes: 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter wowowow 
> 
> While this story is about Lucas and Eliott finding each other again, a big focus is also Lucas dealing with guilt and his relationship with his mom. 
> 
> I hope you like it <3

 

The car stops in front of an old yellow house, the mailbox still engraved with his name, just beneath his parents’. The knot of dread that had followed Lucas since they entered Amboise is replaced by a pressuring guilt. His childhood home still looked the same, except for the chipping paint, uncut grass and drawn curtains. Guilt, guilty, filled with guilt.

The slam of the trunk grabs Lucas by the collar and pulls him out his head. Yann’s by his side with both their bags: Yann’s parents moved to southern France a couple of years ago. Yet Yann didn’t hesitate to stay with Lucas when Daphné had suggested that their clique should spend their summer in their childhood town. His best friend was always selfless, willing to help his friends even at his own cost. Lucas really didn’t deserve him. Suddenly an arm snakes itself around Lucas’ shoulders and gently push him forward. The pathway’s uneven, stones waiting to trip an unsuspecting visitor. Halfway up, the door big, white and looming, the arm gives a gentle squeeze, a silent _are you okay?_ and Lucas feels so fucking grateful for having a friend, no _a brother_ , that knows and cares for him so well. A glance and a small smile to his right, unsure but not willing to backtrack now, was reassurance enough for Yann who continues, but with smaller steps at a slower pace.

Despite having lived in the house for 18 years Lucas feels like a stranger, four years of erasing every thought of Amboise and _this_ house have taken its toll. Guilt. His hand itches, he feels like he should knock instead of just walking in. But Yann is here, here with Lucas. So, he does it for Yann, opens the door like he feels at home, like he never left.

 

Even after four years the first thing he notices are _white_ , so white Lucas swears his corneas are seared. The white Persian rug his mom found at a garage sale is still spotless, and Lucas nudges his shoes off, memories of a loud voice. He isn’t sure whether the smell of bleach, so strong it burns his eyes, is real or a phantom smell, a smell he had become so accustomed to in his teen years. The house is still clean, too clean. Not a single loose thread on a blanket or rug. No stain on the couch, despite Lucas knowing there _should_ be one.

_A newly turned 8-year-old Lucas had eaten cereal with Eliott on the couch while watching morning cartoons, when a nudge had turned into a shove and suddenly there was a big, wet spot, cereal laying a pool of milk. Lucas was sure he had never heard his mom scream so loud before. The scolding he had gotten after Eliott had went home still rang in his ears when he had gone to bed._

No dust, no fingerprints, no forgotten keys or books laying out, not a single picture out of line. Pictures of Lucas and his parents, in various stages of happiness. The most recent, a 14-year-old Lucas, strained smiles, distance between his parents, no one touching each other.

After spending four years in Paris with Manon, Mika and Lisa in their messy, colorful, loud and _homey_ apartment, the house doesn’t look or feel lived in. Too clean, sterile. Silent.

They find Lucas’ mom in the kitchen, folding clothes. The smell of laundry detergent, still the same kind after 20 years, strong and heavy in the air. Not a single dishcloth out of place, a stray cup or a used but forgotten glass of spices. The only evidence the kitchen has been is the pot bubbling on the stove and the crossword laying on the small dinner table. Lucas’ attention returned to the green cast-iron pot, a pot only used to make Lucas’ favorite dish. _Is that onion soup?_

Lucas grasps for words, can’t seem to find them. _What should he say?_

 

“Salut Noelle”, relief. Yann steps forward into the open arms of Noelle Lallemant. His mom embraces Yann with warmth and affection before holding him at arm’s length.

“You’ve grown so much little Yann, grown to be a handsome man”, his mother gasps and laughs, her eyes crinkling and the wrinkles around her eyes become prominent. Lucas swallows. His mother turns to him.

“Hi mamma”, his voice is quiet and foreign to himself. The years in Paris has allowed Lucas to raise his voice, rid itself of awkwardness and unspoken words – but in the face of his mother those years are nothing but dust.

“Mon ange… It’s good to see you”, his mom comes to him, smile beaming and ecstatic, her arms secure and warm. His vision becomes blurry, buries his face in his mother’s blonde soft hair, his arms slowly and awkwardly circling her small form. The happiness that blooms in his chest, at the comfort his mother brings, withers with guilt, _you left her here alone_. Lucas remembers that Yann is also there and moves out of his mothers reach.

His mother smiles a watery but happy smile and Lucas can’t help but think it looks good on her. To be happy. To have something to be happy about.

“You boys should go up and unpack, there’s still about 15 minutes till dinners done – I’ll set the table meanwhile”, her soft hand strokes his cheek and Lucas can’t help but lean into it for a second before following Yann out of the kitchen.

 

The silence between the two boys is comfortable until they reach the stairs. “Race you to the top?”, Yann grins before bolting, Lucas hot on his heels, their laughs and heavy steps filling the house with noise. As they reach the top, leaning on each other, heaving for breath, Lucas remembers a time where the thought of other people in the house would fill him with embarrassment and self-conscience.

For the longest time Lucas only wanted Eliott in the house, no other friends would be allowed to visit. Eliott was a breath of fresh air in the heaviness that had started to cling to his parents and their house – Lucas didn’t understand what was beginning to happen then. After Eliott moved away they managed to keep in contact for a couple of months. But they were after all only teens at the age of 13 and 14, and so they got new interests and new responsibilities. It was natural, not quite out of sight, out of mind – but almost.

But the following years, 2 and a half years in fact, were the loneliest years of Lucas’ life. His mother had started to become even more erratic in her cleaning,

_spotless, spotless, spotless,_

a sudden and all-consuming belief in God,

_“God is speaking to me, Lucas”,_

fits of anger,

_her antique plates smashing against the wall followed by frantic cleaning because it **must** be spotless_.

When Lucas was 14 his mother got the diagnose: paranoid schizophrenia, which she then proceeded to reject.

_It couldn’t be true that she wasn’t a messenger of God. It couldn’t._

 

Embarrassment of his mom being _crazy, insane, a lunatic, unstable_ isolated young Lucas from his classmates, so lonely. As quick as his old bike could take him, he would hurry home everyday after school, _nobody must find out_. In the end people found out, and Lucas felt lucky that it was only the adults that could understand.

Victor Lallemant had called his son _, “I’m gonna be home late. Take care of your mom”,_ and Lucas had done so. Cooked her dinner while she was praying in the living room, brushed her hair as she read the bible, helped her get ready for bed as she talked to the cross, tucked her in while singing the only hymn he knew. But Lucas woke up to his mom standing in the street, pajamas still on, no shoes, no jacket, yelling about the apocalypse and sinners would be judged and trialed at the gates of hell.  

Embarrassment. His dad couldn’t stand the looks people were giving him, whispering about his crazy wife.

_“Did you hear she..”, “She was standing in the middle of the…”, “Poor son, it mustn’t be easy having a craz-“._

So, Victor Lallemant left. Left his son to take care of a mom who didn’t want help. Left his son to beg his mom to get help anyway. Left his son to get rejected. Left his son to the confusion of never having feelings for girls, but instead getting nervous and sweaty around guys, always taller guys, older by a year or two, with messy hair and light eyes. _Maybe he had a type?_

Those lonely years, those incredibly lonely and frustrating years, filled with whispers and pity looks, he never wanted other people to enter his house. Guilt again when Lucas thinks of 15-year-old Lucas starting to fill with spite, anger and resentment towards his mom, _why couldn’t she just get help?_

Guilt, guilty, filled with guilt.

_But you were only 15. You didn’t understand_. He never listens.

 

But then he met Arthur in a biology class, who introduced him to Basile, who roped Yann into their little group.

_“The freshest group in the entire school!”_

_“Please don’t ever say that again”._

Despite Yann being the last to join he was instantly a light in Lucas’ heavy and all-consuming darkness – a light that saw Lucas’ struggles, never invalidated them, wanted to help – help with his derailing family life and Lucas coming to terms with his interest in boys. Lucas saw a friend who wouldn’t judge the choking smell of bleach or his moms messy, unbrushed hair and her erratic eyes, her quick and incoherent murmurs of prayer and repeating motions of cross – Lucas invited Yann into his house. Another person in their house for the first time in two and a half years.

And now _that_ same person is here again, Lucas realizes with a smile.

Lucas opens the door to his bedroom, still the same as the summer he left – no surprise, he hasn’t been back for 4 years. Guilt. _“Of course, I’ll visit you mom. At least five times a year. I promise”,_ he’s such a fucking liar, he knew when he made that promise that he would never keep it. And his mom was still so happy when she saw him, no disappointment or anger. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Lucas don’t even have time to open his bag before Yann enters the room, a smile splitting his handsome face when he sees some of the things Lucas left behind. He wanders to the framed pictures Lucas left behind, a picture of him and Eliott, _maybe we were 10 and 11?,_ smiling so wide, Eliott missing a tooth, Lucas sporting a bruise on his cheek, arms around each other’s shoulders,

_“_ Should I be jealous you still have a picture of the best friend before me?”, the laugh Yann releases soothes the chaos whirling inside Lucas.  

Yann points to another picture, this one of Lucas and his parents, all three smiling, no fakeness, no tightness around the eyes, just a happy and loving family. Clearly, it’s old.

Lips parts to ask a question Lucas probably doesn’t want to answer, “Have you heard from him recently?” Like a blessing Lucas’ mom calls them down for dinner and gives him an excuse to avoid answering.

Lucas is filled with warmth when he realizes that it is in fact his favorite dish they’re eating, again guilty, guilty, guilty.

Lucas feels blessed that Yann carries the conversation, Lucas is too stiff, too awkward, too caught up in guilt. He can almost feel himself being pulled into the conversation when his mom asks, her tone too nonchalant, if they drove down Victor Hugo Rue, if they saw that the Demaury house is sold – did they know that it’s the Demaurys that’s moving back into their old house?

A small firework sets of in his stomach.

“I met Elioise Demaury at the grocery store yesterday - it’s only her and her husband and their two youngest that are moving back. Their eldest Eliott and his other younger sister Stella are staying in Paris”.

The firework is doused with water, now cold, wet and smoking uselessly.

The mention of Eliott sets of memories, _“please stay for dinner, Eliott”, “anything for you Lulu”,_ that exchange had been spoken most weekdays.

_Maybe Lucas had, unintentionally, used Eliott as comfort and a buffer for his parents bickering – his father wouldn’t dare argue in front of a guest._

Lucas catches a pair of blue eyes across the table, a mirror of his own, eyes watching him carefully with a smile. Unspoken words. Lucas stares down into the bottom of his bowl.

The plates clinks as Yann and Lucas clean the table, doesn’t want to feel useless or seem ungrateful before they leave to drink beers with their friends at the old park they used to hang out at. The air is hot, hotter than it usually is, so the boys take a pitstop at the kiosk they frequented for the last year of lycée for cheap beer. _Maybe they hadn’t changed that much either?_

As they enter the park the others have already arrived, spread out their blankets, boxes of beer and bowls of fruit spread around. As they get closer Manon is talking about how she barely even got into the Demissy house before her parents had to leave for an unexpected business trip, disappointed but not surprised.

Emma continues about how her mom arrives next week, how nice it is to have the house to herself, tone nonchalant and uncaring but Lucas knows better. He knows that the Borgés’ house feels empty after her dad died.

Daphné tells rapidly about her mom’s luxurious welcome with champagne and white wine, how they had eaten a three-course meal, how elated her mom was to see her again. Tight around the eyes, talking too fast, smile nearly splitting her face, hand in a vice-grip around her beer. Lucas feels uneasy.

Alexia calmly talks about her parents’ preparation of her favorite dish, welcomed her home with hugs and tears, following her around the house, and how she had loved it.

Arthur complains about his younger siblings, how they’re way too loud and messy and always trying to get his attention, he can’t even go to the bathroom with them almost kicking the door down – his voice is fond, and his smile is genuine.

Basile talks about the random things his mom had been doing since the last time he had visited – she had cut a bush into the shape of dick, travelled to Las Vegas to find a rich man, had found a fondness for open-faced sandwiches and on a whim took a 15 hour train-ride to Copenhagen to eat original open-faced sandwiches while hoping she would stumble into Nikolaj Coster-Waldau.

“She also told me that the Demaury family is moving back into their old house! Can you guys remember how Lucas and that dude were inseparable for years?”, everybody nods in agreement, even Lucas.

Because they really were. Inseparable that is, right up till Eliott moved. Since they met when Lucas was 7 and Eliott 8 they had seen each other every day.

Eliott, 9 years old, sick in his bed, _“Eli are you gonna die?”,_ a hoarse laughter, _“I’m just sick with the flu Lulu. I’m not going to die”,_ Lucas asleep on the floor beside the older boy’s bed, arm reaching up to hold a sweaty hand.

Lucas, at the age of 10, running away after being teased by the boys in his class, _“Your hair is so long, are you sure you’re not a girl?”, “If you’re a girl I don’t wanna be friends!”, “Girly Lucas!”._ Sitting behind a tree, hidden by bushes, crying into his knees, suddenly two arms pressing him into a warm body, _“I love your hair”,_ a soft kiss behind his ear, _“You’re not alone”_.

A 12-year-old Lucas being pulled by a newly turned 13-year-old Eliott further and further into the local forest. _“Where are we going Eli?”,_ that blinding grin left little air in the smaller boys’ body, _“Somewhere so cool, you’ll lose your marbles”,_ giggling and holding hands, reaching a lake surrounded by rocks, flowers, bushes, green, green, green. _“It’s **our** place Lulu!”_

The rest of the swimming, laughing, singing playing, getting _close, closer, so close_ , surrounded by grass, warmed by the sun, _hot, hotter, so hot_.

Day turning to night, two boys laying in the grass, sides touching, looking at stars. A familiar silence, full of comfort and things unspoken. “ _You’re my best friend Lulu”,_ brushing hands, “ _You’re my best friend too Eli”_ , interlacing. _“Do you think we would have met if you hadn’t bumped into me?”,_ silence, pondering, “ _Of course. I think we’re destined to meet each other in every universe”,_ a surprised laugh, _“Every universe? Are there more than this one?”,_ disbelief and fondness, _“There’s an infinite amount of universes Eli! And we’ll meet each other in every single one! Maybe not in the same way, but we will meet!”,_ tightening the hold on hands. 

 

_"Are you sure Lulu?”,_ heads turn towards each other,

 

_“More than anything Eli”,_ foreheads touching.


	3. New Eyes: 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yayyy! 
> 
> I really hope you guys like it! The story's gonna be more lighthearted from now on, and so the fluff will soon begin ;))) 
> 
> I hope I have caught most of my mistakes, but if I haven't I apologise <3
> 
> Enjoy <3

The park hadn’t changed since they had hung out there four years ago, grass still trimmed to perfection, bushes and flowers blooming. The last time they were there, all of them, were the day they had graduated. Fondness at the memories of sun and laughter brings a smile to Lucas’ lips. It had been scorching, and they had walked to the park together, nine teens, in their caps and gowns, arms around each other, laughing and feeling high on the thought of leaving Amboise behind, of moving on with their lives, hopefully together. They had stopped at a grocery store, wreaking havoc and nearly getting kicked out – but they had just graduated and were on top of the world, so they didn’t care. Their accounts must have wept as they left, arms full of alcohol, mixers and way too much food, they probably wouldn’t eat all of. They had lounged in the park, getting drunk on alcohol, freedom and each other, talking about chasing their dreams and appreciating the small family they had knit together.

They were doing the same now, laying on their blankets, throwing grapes at each other, wheezing with laughter at the stories of their stupid shenanigans and mischievous plans, their fingers buzzing from the beer, the sun bathing them in a golden light.

When the last of the golden rays begin to disappear, they leave one by one, eager to get home before the cold sets in. Emma and Manon walk with Yann and Lucas, stories of Mika, Lisa and Emma’s new roommate being shared – and suddenly Lucas misses the ever-positive Mika and the laidback Lisa. Despite the tension between them at the start, they had quickly grown to become a constant in his life, that he appreciated and cared for more than he would ever admit. They had given him the comfort and space for him to grow and become happy, confident and fearless of who he is – with their help and support he had become the Lucas Lallemant he wanted to be.

They drop Emma off, and Lucas feel the corner of his mouth pulling up: the wilted plant in the window is gone and replaced with a bouquet of fresh and blooming roses. His joy wavers when Manon reaches her home. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was for sale. Nothing indicated it was a home, people, a family, living in it, but in a different way than the way his mothers house feels unlived. This house doesn’t look sterile, but it looks cold, dark and abandoned instead. He wonders, if this is why Manon also loves living in the coloc with Mika and Lisa.

They turn the corner and the sign to Lucas’ street comes into view. Yann starts yawning, his eyes dropping low, basically walking in his sleep. In the other direction the street sign of Victor Hugo Rue shines in the last rays of the sun.

Lucas slows down. “I need to get some things for the grocery store, but you can just go ahead”, Lucas gently pushes his sleepy friend forward, who slowly nods and continues to trot the last meters home.

Changing direction Lucas sets a brisk pace, wanting to reach the store before it closes. The cashier shoots him an annoyed glance, and a quick glance at his phone tells him there’s four minutes to closing time. Not wanting to be one of _those_ customers, Lucas powerwalks, gets his milk and apples in record time, shoots a low ‘sorry’ at the cashier and sprints out of the store after he gets his receipt.

The last of the precious warmth from the sun has disappeared, leaving him cold, teeth clattering and hurrying to his hopefully warm childhood home. His steps are determined, his arms swinging to generate warmth.

The sign to Victor Hugo Rue continues to blink at him, tempting, as he passes by, and his steps falter.

 

_You shouldn’t._

_It’s freezing cold._

_Just get home._

_Maybe Eliott is there?_

 

He has crossed the road before he realizes that he is surrounded by fancy cars and big houses.

Wild brown hair, always unruly but soft, soft, soft, and clear grey eyes that visited him in his sleep for many years, flash across the inner eye of his mind, and something curls and blooms in his stomach. His heart following the beat of a dupstep song, palms clammy and itching. He feels out of place here, on Victor Hugo Rue, the street for those with more than an over average income, happy lives with no worries. Those with swimming pools, lush gardens, cars more worth than Lucas’ life and iron-wrought fences barricading big, three-story houses, live here. And he has always felt out of place here, the street of gold and freedom.

And maybe that is why Lucas had been so jealous of Eliott, while also greatly admiring his best friend. Because not only did Eliott live the life Lucas wanted, in a big fancy house with his happy family, no worries about being able to pay for everything they would need, a life so different from his own, Eliott was also a really good person.

Always willing to help, never saying no or doing anything for his own gain, smarter than people gave him credit for, smarter in ways people didn’t understand or appreciate, cultured even at the age of 10, and seeing the world in a different light than any other person Lucas had known, not at all arrogant despite the privileges that came with living on Victor Hugo Rue.

Even when he was 12 Lucas knew Eliott was different than him.

The memories of the confusing jealousy that consumed him when he was 12, Lucas feels guilty again – because Lucas also knew that Eliott was insecure, struggled to keep his grades up in science-subjects, felt the pressure of being successful and worked hard to make his parents proud. And Eliott cared for and protected Lucas unconditionally.

There’s a lot of things Lucas feels guilty about – but he banishes those thoughts as he stands outside the once familiar house. Lucas remembers a time where he had fit so effortlessly into the Demaury family, considered like another son, being gifted on his birthday and at Christmas, proudly showing off his report card.

 

Lucas, age 11, competing in a science competition at their school, his parents not in the crowd but the Demaury’s cheering loudly when the silver medal was placed around his neck, Eliott gloating in the car, his arm around Lucas, “ _My best friend is so smart!”,_ celebrating on Victor Hugo Rue with onion soup and cake, his cheeks hurting from smiling and laughing.

Lucas at age 12 walking into the house, without knocking, greeting Elioise in the kitchen, receiving a kiss on the forehead, continuing into the garden, blending effortlessly into the game of tag Eliott and his siblings had started. Helping Stella inside when she fell and scraped her knee, cleaned it, put a bandage on and kissed it better, just like a brother would.

A 13-year-old Lucas helping the family pack their home into boxes despite it feeling wrong, so wrong.

 

Lucas doesn’t feel the cold now, his eyes flicking around, looking for movement in windows and shadow, but he finds nothing but darkness, drawn curtains and eerie stillness. His heart feels heavy, unreasonably so, and he returns the way he came, the cold returning to bite his cheeks and raise the hair on his arms, speeding up to reach warmth. The memories of old times, when they had each other, engraved into his mind.

 

As he tiptoes up the stairs, the house silent, Lucas comes to the startling realization, that he doesn’t know what Eliott looks like now, how his voice or laugh sounds, how his hug feels.

And for some reason that bothers him. So much that as he lies in the safety and comfort of his bed his fingers search for that name on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, suddenly desperate to cling to some familiarity of his childhood, frantic for knowledge of the person who was the most important presence in his life for many years.

But there’s nothing, like Eliott doesn’t exist. _What kind of person doesn’t have social media?_

Lucas stares at his ceiling like it holds all the answers he wants, his knuckles pale as he grips his phone. There’s a whirlwind in his stomach and he wills himself to sleep, uneasy and with no satisfaction.

 

Days pass, and Lucas hears from his mother how far the Demaury’s have come in their renovation of their old house, has been told how much Elioise wants to see Lucas again – but Lucas doesn’t go back to that house. The disappointment of realizing he doesn’t know Eliott anymore nearly drowning him at the mere mention of their surname. Instead he has immersed himself and Yann into helping his mother with her gardening, something calming about the smell of dirt and grass, his mother’s presence comfortable. Sometimes Lucas can look at her and not be overwhelmed by guilt.  

Thursday brings a new person into his group of friends, another girl, Imane, from Paris. Lucas, Yann, Arthur and Basile are waiting for the girls at the park when the girls arrive in a flurry of noise, exclaiming that Imane is in Amboise with her brother and friends to help some of their friends’ family move into their old house – given Stella Demaury is a year younger than Lucas and friends, Lucas assumes it’s Stella they’re helping.

Imane is bold and confident as she introduces herself to the boys, shaking their hands, witty comments gliding smoothly, a graceful and natural addition to their little family. Imane takes his hand, soft and firm in its shake, and he introduces himself. _I’m Lucas Lallemant and I guess these losers are my friends_ , Imanes eyes crinkle prettily, and Lucas is proud of himself.

“I might have heard of you”, her eyes twinkle, the corner of her lip pulled up, and Lucas gets a feeling she knows more than she lets on.

Daphné loudly interrupts “Only a party is appropriate to celebrate a new friend”, pointing out Emma has a free place, telling Imane she should invite her brother and their friends, Imane replying that they may be reluctant to join.

Manon clears her throat “Tonight? Isn’t that a bit too soon Daphy?”, the young adults glancing at each other, unsure, Daphné steadfast in her enthusiasm.

“The element of surprise will make people curious. And if we’re being honest, nothing really happens here, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a welcome change”, and nobody could really argue with that.

 

Despite Emma only having been there for little under a week, it’s already a pigsty, and Lucas decides Imane is already his new favorite, when she instantly but gently takes charge, giving out orders. The Parisian girl is smart, blunt, sensible and mature, even when she shuts down the ever energetic Daphné when she gets over the top. Imane is instantly a soothing balm in the chaos of his friends.

The quartet of boys rearranges the furniture, at Daphné’s command, to create a dancefloor, while Emma and Manon hide expensive vases and other valuable décor, Alexia and Imane sets up neon lights Emma found in the basement along with a sound system and a beerpong table.

When Arthur, Basile, Emma and Daphné sets out to buy snacks and alcohol, Lucas, Imane and Alexia spends way too much time making a playlist, and as Yann and Manon is setting up the final touches to the sound system and the beerpong table, Arthur, Basile, Emma and Daphné returns. They have barely set up the alcohol and snacks on the counter, before the first wave of guests comes through the door.

In a whirlwind of “It’s so long since I’ve seen you!”s, cans of beer, shots of vodka, “How have you been?”s, strobe lights coloring faces in neon and “Can you remember that time where…”s with the bass pounding as a collective heartbeat, the living room is filled to the brim with dancing and talking bodies, leaning close.

In the steady stream of newcomers and people vanishing in the crowd Lucas sees people he hasn’t seen in years. People he used to know, people he forgot about. He thinks he sees his old philosophy desk mate and instantly feels sorry for the torment he put the poor girl through, she must have hated him for so long. He wouldn’t blame her if she still does – he was a nightmare.

Feeling lax and abnormally talkative from the several shots Alexia and Emma dared him to take Lucas roams around the house, talking and dancing with people he was glad he hadn’t seen the last four years. His migration route takes a stop at a doorway where Yann and Arthur are keeping an eye on Basile who is trying, and failing, to get Daphné’s attention.

Taking a place beside Arthur, he fist bumps his friends, “You would think after 6 years, he would get a hint”, Lucas inserts himself seamlessly into their conversation.

Yann nods and grimaces, “His hope was renewed after she kissed him at that party in February”

Arthur scoffs, “She literally thought he was someone else”, his blonde friend gestures wildly, spilling some beer on his shirt, voice incredulous and frustrated.

“We should hold an intervention. The story’s getting old, and she will never like him, sorry not sorry”, Lucas shrugged, his two friends nodding in agreement. Basile’s desperate attempts at getting Daphné to like him back were getting painful to see.

Another wave of partygoers’ come through the door, Yann and Lucas shooting quick glances at each other in panic, swiftly pulling Arthur with them to the kitchen in a desperate attempt to hide. The new guest at the party were Yann and Lucas’ old girlfriends Ingrid and Sara and their clique of vicious beasts. Neither of their relationships with the girls ended too well: Yann fell in love with Emma, who had been Ingrid’s best friend, and so left Ingrid, when he found out Emma liked him back. And well, Lucas’ relationship with Sara ended horribly in year 1 at a party where she had pulled him into a bedroom and he failed to get an erection, where he then proceeded to make out with her brother later in the night. She hated him for the rest of their days at the lycée.

The boys maneuver themselves onto the counter and as soon as Arthur starts to roll a joint Basile appears, face defeated and clutching his beer in a vice grip but lights up like a Christmas tree when sees the weed. The tension disappears as the smoke drifts around the room and their laughter grows in volume, a mirror of their last two years before they left Amboise.

 

A girl interrupts, the curly blonde hair familiar, and Lucas gets a bad feeling in his gut as the girl starts throwing up in the sink. Following the blonde girl comes a dark-haired girl, also painfully familiar, and once again Lucas starts to panic. This, a direct parallel of the first time he met the pair of girls.

The girl with chocolate hair stops rubbing her friends back, turns her head and Lucas is faced with Chloé. The secondary pain of Lucas’ last two years at the lycée. The girl took a fancy to Lucas after a party in his second year, but never quite seemed to get the hint that Lucas came out of the closet at the end of his first year and therefore didn’t like girls.

“Lucas! I didn’t think you would be here, I’ve missed seeing you around”, Chloé smiles brightly, her eyes twinkling as she leans towards him – a sign that she still hasn’t given up on him. Even if he _is_ helplessly into boys Lucas can admit that she is pretty, cute even. But as it so happens he can’t appreciate what she can offer.

Drunk Lucas decided it’s best to just fake a smile, a white lie on the tip of his tongue. “Nice to see you too Chloé, I’ve been pretty busy in Paris with my boyf-“, the sound of the blond girl, Maria, dry-heaving interrupts Lucas’ attempt to gently let the enthusiastic girl down.

“Maybe we could go outside? Talk a bit, just the two of us”, Chloé’s gaze expectant, voice high, cheeks rosy. Lucas frantically glances at the boys, his distress palpable. 

Like a saving grace Alexia came jumping through the kitchen looking for a beer-pong partner, Lucas literally jumping off his throne on the counter, volunteering like something out of The Hunger Games, allowing himself to be pulled away.

The duo fought valiantly and with honor, but their efforts were for naught as their opponents were leaving them in the dust. Feeling as if he has drunk an entire box of beer by himself Lucas join his friends on the dancefloor.

They’re all bathed in neon lights, beers and bottles of vodka in hand, glitter and glimmer on their clothes, euphoric on the carelessness and fervor that pulses through the house in the rhythm of the bass, embracing them in a state of delirium, compelling them to sing loudly, and badly. With an arm around Manon’s shoulders and holding Emma’s hand, they jump and try to rap along to a song from when they were teenagers, seeking thrills and trying to escape. His eyes are dropping, so Lucas hears rather than sees his friends become silent and stopping their chaos.

 

 “Guys say hi to my brother and our friends”, Imane gestures to the people behind her, who already have cans of beer in their hands.

Lucas lets his eyes wander over the new people, there’s no doubt the man towering over them is Imane’s brother, another boy with dark curly hair and kind eyes speaking to two other boys, who’s already dancing around. A girl with brown hair to her shoulders look at them confidently. “This is Idriss, my brother, and our friends, Sofiane, Omar, Malik and Lucille. I think you may know them, this is Stella Demaury and this is her brother-“, as the neon lights flicker over his face, Lucas’ breath hitches.

 

He’s grown tall, a lot taller than what he used to be, and filled out more, a toned bicep hugged by a snug t-shirt. But the hair, wild and untamable, and the eyes, grey, soft, inviting and kind, are still the same. He is still so undeniably mesmerizing. And despite his earlier realization that he didn’t know how he looked like, Lucas is confident that this angelic creature is-

 

“- Eliott”.


	4. New Eyes: 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's here!!! 
> 
> It's been a tough road to get here with an Economy-exam looming over my head and deadlines for my movie- and radio features stressing me the fuck out. University really is unforgiving, huh? 
> 
> So, after several days of just staring into my screen, I found inspiration and basically finished this chapter today, yayy!! 
> 
> I hope you like it, mecs <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, your comments warm my tired uni-student Heart <3 <3 <3

 

Lucas had imagined meeting Eliott again many times. Actually, these fantasies have been spun since he was eighteen. The scenarios varied in nature and mood like all the different parallel universes Lucas imagined.

 

One scenario in which Eliott was a bartender at a LGBTQ+ friendly bar in Paris serving a gay and confident Lucas an ice-cold beer, recognizing him instantly, their connection still somehow intact,

or they stumbled into each other on the romantic streets of Paris, Lucas so suave and charming, he would leave the new and older Eliott breathless.

Or Lucas running late to one of his university classes, stumbled and fell into a seat next to a familiar face, but ended up disappointed and embarrassed when the handsome man didn’t recognize him.

 

But Lucas hadn’t imagined the possibility of seeing Eliott for the first time in 10 years at a party in Amboise.

 

So, Lucas panicked. And in an overwhelming moment of panic, gay panic if you will, Lucas dipped, seeking out a dark corner where he can regain his calm and cool façade. 

Because it is unfair. Unfair that Eliott has returned to Amboise, grown up, unbearably handsome and so irritatingly familiar, yet unfamiliar. Unfair, because Eliott had no business looking like _that._

 

_‘Like a snacc’ as Alexia would say._

 

The tall, lean and handsome creature was a stark contrast to the Eliott, Lucas had last seen many years ago. Teenager Eliott had moved away with longer hair, trying to grow it out, and dressed in a variety of colors,

like he was trying to imitate a rainbow, mixing pink with green, orange with purple,

a constant smile on his face with rounder edges, a kind appearance.

The adult Eliott that had grazed Lucas’ sight was far more intimidating with his slim face, sharp angles and a jawline that probably make both girls and boys alike weep, his shorter and effortlessly wild hair and dressed in all black with tempting veins running across his arm.

It’s clear that Eliott has matured and grown up into a mesmerizing and alluring man, the sight provoking a warmth in Lucas’ chest, buzzing through his body, moving towards his fingers, moving south, feeling as if his entire body has been dipped in reds, yellows and oranges, lighting his body up.

It should be illegal to look that good.

 

And so Lucas is standing a dim corner, unlit by the neon lights, eyes frantically looking for the slender figure clad in all-black, his heart resonating in his ears.

Solely focused on looking out for his old childhood friend Lucas doesn’t notice Emma nearing, until she is pulling him by the arm through the sweating mass of dancing bodies, towards the worn white leather sofa occupied by his band of friends. With no Eliott in sight Lucas relaxes, giving his heart a breather.

Daphné is clutching Manon’s arm, “It really should be illegal to be so beautiful”. _Daphné is right for once._

“He isn’t just beautiful, he is strikingly gorgeous and exquisite”, Manon leans her head onto Emmas shoulder, sighing dramatically. _Correct observation ms. Demissy._

“Did you see his smoldering gaze? That nearly gave me palpitations” Alexia is fanning herself, beside her Imane is laughing and rolling her eyes. _Again, it should be illegal to look that good, going around giving people heart problems._

“He wouldn’t have to pass my bed more than once, just saying”, Emma contributes after downing a shot. _Typical Emma. No comment._

“He might be the hottest man I’ve ever seen”, Yann provides, tone nonchalant and easy. _What?_

Silence. One by one their little misfit band of heathen’s squints at Yann in confusion. Yann, otherwise unbothered by the silence, looks up from the concoction he was mixing. _Is that Jäger, tequila and wine?_

“I’m straight, not blind”.

 

Lucas had promised himself that he wouldn’t look at Eliott, but losing to his impulses, once again, Lucas’ eyes scans the living room, finding Eliott on the other side of the room, looking like an angel. A very sinful angel, luring weakhearted boys and girls in with magnetic eyes, looking like entire storms had been trapped in them.

Or at least a model with how the unfamiliar, yet familiar, man is leaning against the wall, poised and graceful yet careless, emitting confidence but hunching in the shoulder, like Eliott doesn’t want to draw too much attention – but failing miserably. Mostly everyone has their eyes set on the new guy with the face that is straight up Elite Models potential.

Lucas falls helpless to the temptation and lets his eyes rest on the statuesque man, roaming the dark-clad figure, noticing the tattoo revealed by the pushed-up sleeve of a leatherjacket, noticing the vein running delicately over big hands, noticing the faint glimmer of an earring, noticing the crinkle of Eliott’s eyes when he laughs. His chest hurts when the two small blue oceans of his eyes finds two wild grey storms staring intensely into them, threatening to disturb the still waters of his heart until the storms have created chaotic waves, drumming wildly. Yet the younger can’t manage to tear his eyes away, falling victim to the chaos of unfamiliarity.

 

These eyes,

These grey eyes that seem to hold him captive,

These eyes that he has seen so many times before,

These eyes that he has gazed into late at night,

These eyes he has dreamt of,

These eyes…

These eyes seem new.

 

Eliott’s eyes continues to blaze a trail of heat through Lucas’ body, like a predator luring its prey closer before devouring it. Lucas blinks against the gaze, that pleasantly burns his body like a thousand suns, taking in the roaming stormy eyes, a red tongue wetting a pair of enticing lips before white teeth takes the pink lips hostage. 

Lucas forces his eyes away, the pleasant burn from Eliott’s gaze turning into a stinging and unpleasant fire in his chest, the embarrassment of being caught staring overwhelming the drunk adolescent. Lucas restlessly shifts his weight, suddenly feeling unsteady, averting his eyes drastically, focusing on a stain on Emma’s pants. Lucas feels like the sun has found its home within his cheeks. Lucas blames it on the alcohol.

Lucas startles when Yann’s warm hand settles on his shoulder, “Bro, are you okay? You look kinda red”, his tone is concerned, his eyes drilling into Lucas’. Once upon a time, before they left Amboise, this would have left Lucas even more red.

The all-black figure in the corner of his eyes though, lit up by neon lights, makes Lucas’ mind short circuit, resulting in a series of non-sensible sounds of utter garbage before Lucas finds his words.

“I’m fine bro, just drank too much, too quick”, Error 404, braincells not found.

 

Despite his friends shouting and laughing, the music loud enough to burst their eardrums, the buzzing from all the other people around the house, claps, stomps and screams of ecstasy creating a cocktail of noise, it all sounds silent to Lucas. He hears all the noises and would perhaps have been overwhelmed if he hadn’t just had the staring match of the century with a fucking angel. He hears all these noises and yet they don’t register, his mind whirling like a sandstorm trapped inside his skull.

His mind keeps returning to the cold feeling creeping into his bones, now that he doesn’t feel the intense red, yellow and orange firestorm of Eliott’s eyes. The heat of other people’s stares is not foreign to Lucas: his body has been warmed by eyes of all colors, trying to burn their imprint into his skin.

There has been Romain, the law-student with eyes like molten caramel. There has been Jace, the foreign exchange student from Scotland with eyes like entire forests grew in there. There has been Noah, the barista at his favorite café with eyes that rivaled a newly cut lapis lazuli. There has been Beau, Mikas younger brother with eyes like cognac, warming him up. There has also been Louis, the older married man with eyes so dark they could’ve been two pools of ink.

But all these eyes had never been so instant in their mission to bring him warmth. Had never just taken one look at him, and then proceeded to almost burn him from the inside out. All these other eyes had taken their time, grown into their warmth. But Eliott had instantly looked at him with such heat, it had sent his mind into overdrive, thoughts and impulses bouncing around his brain, and left him with clammy hands and his heart up in his throat.

 

_How could Eliott be so different?_

Lucas’ eyes were distant, his eyebrows tucked into a crease, his lips curled into a pout: all signs of a bewilderment so heavy, Lucas was able to ignore the increasing noise from his friends, his mind on repeat:

_**Why** is Eliott different? _

 

Because after all it is **just** Eliott?

 

Eliott Demaury.

Eliott.

Eli.  

His childhood friend. **Just** childhood friend. **Just** a childhood friend who was the most important person in his life for several years. **Just** a childhood friend who Lucas had found comfort, understanding and safety in. **Just** a childhood friend who gave Lucas so much motivation and inspired him to work hard in everything he did. **Just** a childhood friend he had been so secure with that his presence alone could ease Lucas into a better mood and make him relax. **Just** a childhood friend Lucas would’ve done anything for. **Just** a childhood friend who could calm Lucas down with a simple hug. **Just** a childhood friend who gave Lucas unrivaled safety when he held his hand. **Just** a childhood friend who never failed to show that he cared.

Just a childhood friend who he had, maybe, just maybe, missed.

_That’s it!_

Lucas could feel his rationality sift through the confusion.

_The warmth was instant because Eliott had missed Lucas as his friend. And Lucas was so effected because he unknowingly had missed Eliott as his friend too. Just as a friend. Yes. Oui. That’s it._

The satisfaction from his conclusion made Lucas all tingly, his mind calmer now that logic and rationality banned the chaos of confusion. There’s nothing to be afraid of now, Eliott and him were only friends after all.

Lucas tests his observation and takes a brief glance at the slender man who has shed his leather jacket, oh god, and is immersed in an apparently heated conversation with the pretty, short-haired girl, Lucy? Louise?. A newfound desire to actually exchange words with the man who had plagued his mind the last week soared. A desire to hear how his voice has matured, if his laugh is still the same.  

Despite his rational conclusion of _missing_ and _friendship_ , Lucas is still a weak man.

Weak to the temptation of quickly crossing the room, presenting himself as _Lucas Lallemant, I think you’ve maybe heard of me_ , with a grin and a wink. All as a joke of course. _Of course._ Before his mind can even process the impulse, his feet have, by their own will, already taken the first steps forward.

Lucas leaves the sphere of his friends, deaf to their confused calls, almost tunnel-sighting with Eliott as the destination, his feet unsteady yet persistent in their adventure across the room. His mind is in a daze.

_Eliott. Eli. Eliott. Eli. Eliott. Eli._

His swaying body just barely evades a stumbling body, basically vibrating as those eyes, cut from stone, widens when they find his. The pink petals stops moving before curling into an enthralling smirk. They are still bathed in neon, accompanied by a bass-heavy track as their background music. Like something out of movie.

Lucas is near him, just maybe two or three meters more, the music has disappeared, only the sound of his own heavy breathing. Eliott has pushed himself off the wall, fully turning himself in Lucas’ direction, taking a step towards Lucas, eyes heavy with something new and different.

 

A small hand curls around his arm. His eyes, quick and confused, flicker to the owner of the surprisingly hard grip. Small and dainty, dark hair, chocolate eyes, sweet smile. Chloé.

Lucas can almost physically feel the bubble burst, as the sound returns in overwhelming waves. His mind is buzzing, just humming with white noise. His eyes roll around, and he can feel himself licking his lips three times within five seconds, because everything is suddenly so dry.

He feels even drunker now, as he tries to subtly heave air into his lungs, trembling and feeling oddly offended and frustrated and interrupted and –

“Dance with me”, Lucas can feel Chloés lipgloss on the shell of his ear, a sticky imprint left behind, her whisper in his ear turning his stomach. He has a mind of saying ‘no’ and continue his trek towards Eliott. Maybe if Lucas shakes Chloé off quick enough, he can reach Eliott in the middle, and oh-

A hopeful glance shows Eliott being pulled into that Lucy, Louise, whatever her name is, girls embrace as they rock back and forth.

Lucas swallows, _not upset, why would he be upset_ , smiles down at Chloé, mindlessly copying her dance moves, letting her get closer, smirking down at her when her arms wounds around his neck.

“Are you enjoying the party?”, Chloé has pretty eyes, Lucas decides, as she looks up at him with gleaming eyes, waiting eagerly for his answer.

“I guess it’s alright. It’s a smaller party than those I go to in Paris”, he’s awkward, he knows that. He just can’t bring himself to dedicate to the conversation.

“They must be huge then! You should bring me sometime?”, she winks at him, and it’s almost cute. But Lucas should really let her know that he’s not into her – or rather, her gender. If she wasn’t in love with him Lucas thinks they could’ve been good friends; she’s sweet, cute, funny and has excellent music taste. And before she began to lay it on thick, her presence could sometimes be quite calming.

 

But it seems like every time Lucas makes plans tonight, they’re ruined. He can hear the screeching of his friends, more specifically Basile and Arthur, before he sees the curlyhaired and blonde losers, he calls his friends.

“LULU! We found some good kush”, Basile holds up the small, clear bag like it was Simba from the Lion King. Arthur wraps a finger in one of Lucas’ beltloops and begins to pull him away from Chloé, disappointment noticeable on her face, her mouth set into a pout.

“I will find you later, okay?”, she sends a strained smile his way, her voice unnaturally high.

Lucas sends a small smile, just to be polite, “Sure”, before his eyes looks over her shoulder, meeting with those goddamn grey eyes. Eliott winks at him, mouths something at him and Lucas can feel his heart stop before he is pulled into the kitchen once again.

 

Lucas melts into a kitchen chair, his legs suddenly too wobbly. His head tilts back, the ceiling suddenly immensely interesting.

“Sooo”, Arthur starts, and Lucas can almost see the way his eyebrows are wiggling”, did you speak to Eliott?”.

Lucas can hear how his friends push each other around in excitement, giggles and whispers like teenage girls.

“I didn’t. Chloé trapped me before I could speak to him”, Lucas doesn’t, or even want to, tell his friends about the hypnotic daze he was in, Eliott the only thing on his mind. Lucas closes his eyes.

_Just friends, just friends, just friends, just friends._

Arthur and Basile began to sputter various noises of disbelief and disappointment, shaking each other dramatically. Yann remains silent, “Have you told her, you know… that you’re gay?”.

Lucas sighs, feeling equally as dramatic as ‘dumb and dumber’ in the corner, “No, because every time I try to tell her, somebody steals me away. Someday she’s gonna declare her feelings for me in some grand way and I’ll look like a dumbass, a homosexual moron, standing there going like ‘yeah, I’m gay’, like I didn’t have five years to tell her – or to get her to understand at least”.

He can hear his friends laugh as they light up the blunt. Honestly, he needs better friends… Laughing at his struggles, the amount of disrespect. Lucas is still melted into the kitchen chair, head back and eyes closed, too lazy to move his ass onto the counters to sit with his friends.

A finger pokes his cheek, “You want a hit Lulu?”, Lucas opens one eye to see Arthur leaning over him, holding the joint.

“I’ll pass this time”.

His friends smile and Arthur ruffles his hair. And despite them making fun of his struggles to tell Chloé that he isn’t into her, he still loves them for accepting his decisions, not pressuring him into anything. They just start a conversation about what their plans are when the new semester starts.

 

“I have a date the day we get back”

“With who?”

“That cute ass dude that works in the library”

“The one with hearing aids?”

“Yeah”

“Oh, he cute, cute”

“How can you communicate if he’s deaf?”

“Shut up Basile”

“I’m just curious, Arthur? He can’t hear what you say?”

“He literally has hearings aids to help him hear what I say. I just speak clearly and depending on the environment I speak loudly”

 

Lucas smiles as he listens to Arthur and Yann for the thousandth time lecturing Basile on basic human knowledge and decency. Arthur laughs as Basile gives dumb excuses, and Yann roasts the curly haired boy: “It’s not your fault that you’re so dumb, Baz. I’ll pray for a quick burst of braincells”, followed by an offended gasp and a perfect impersonation of Ingrid’s “Excuuse me?”. Lucas guess’ that it’s the French equivalent of a white-L. A-girl impersonation.

By now Lucas has almost become one with the chair as he just listens to his friends babble and play around, the smell of weed heavy in the air.

 

“I see something yellow”

“A banana”

“I see something… grey”

“A fridge?”

“No”

“A stove?”

“No”

“A coffeemachine?”

“No”

“What is it?”

“A fridge”

“I already said that, you dumbass”

His friends’ mindless chatter quiets down swiftly. The sudden silence makes Lucas crack an eye open. His first reaction is to freeze. In the doorway stands Eliott, smiling at his friends who are gaping at the beautiful man.

 

_Just friends Lucas, just friends._

 

Still silence. It’s becoming awkward fast, and it’s like the French language has vanished from Lucas’ vocabulary. For the first time in forever Lucas is grateful for Basile’s lack of boundaries, as the boy bounces over to the model standing in the doorway, engulfing him in a hug.

“Hey, it’s the model, guys! Come, join us! We’re just smoking some weed”, Basile grin, pulling up his hand for a high five, Arthur and Yann gesturing wildly for Eliott not to indulge the hyper boy. Eliott smiles shyly at Basile, sidestepping the rejected boy before settling himself next to Yann on the counter. Eliott fistbumps Arthur and Yann.

“I’m Basile, but just call me Baz”

“Oh, like Baz Luhrmann?”

“Who?”

“Nevermind that dumbass. I’m Arthur, and please just call me that”

“And I’m Yann, nice to meet you man”.

“You too. And I’m Eliott, if you didn’t know”, despite his appearance being all sharp edges and intimidating, Eliott’s voice is still quite light. Familiar in a sense; it has matured, sure, but Lucas can still recognize it as the voice of teenager-Eliott,

“Oh, we know who you are! And you know Lucas, don’t you?”, Basile points eagerly towards Lucas, still frozen in the kitchen chair.

“Yeah, I know Lucas”, Eliott ran a hand through his hair, and Lucas suddenly becomes hyperaware of how soft it looks.

 

_Just friends, just friends Lucas. Only friends_.

 

“So how is it? Being back in Amboise?”, Yann asks before the silence can settle once more. Lucas turns his head, desperate for his friends and Eliott not to see how his cheeks has darkened.  

“Well, except for the fact that literally nothing has changed, it’s been great so far”, Eliott grimaces and looks Lucas’ way, “though there are people, that I’ve been excited to see again”. The shy smile Eliott shoots in Lucas’ direction makes his heart melt, the heat in his cheeks flaring up again, and Lucas is pretty sure it has the same effect on his friends.

 

_Just friends, just friends. It’s just Eliott. Eliott was always beautiful and sweet and charming. Yeah, it’s just Eliott. Just friends. Only friends._

 

A smile is blooming on Lucas’ lips before he can school his features. Eliott’s eyes twinkle like two stars trying, and succeeding, to be the prettiest stars in the galaxy.

Lucas sees Yann whispering to Basile and Arthur, who nod and jump down from the counter.

“We just remembered we promised to dance with girls. Tootles”, Arthur has thrown out the words and left the kitchen, Basile and Yann in tow, before Lucas even register what happened.

The silence that follow are heavy with tension, Eliott gazing at Lucas expectantly from his throne on the counter, everything is suddenly only _Eliott, Eliott, Eliott._

 

Bathed in the light of the stars in Eliott’s eyes Lucas becomes solid again, his thighs burning as he rises from the kitchen chair. For a short moment he’s surprised the chair wasn’t stuck to his ass, his body had been that heavy.

Those familiar yet new eyes follow him as he moves towards his old best friend. As he prepares to haul himself onto the counter, his brain yells at him to be as elegant and graceful and effortless as Eliott. And for once he seems to follow orders well, succeeding in lifting himself onto the counter in one sweeping, graceful moment. He apparently succeeded in flexing his arms too, as Eliott’s eyes are trailing every inch of the defined muscle of his forearms and biceps.

 

_Just one bro checking out another bro’s arms. Totally normal. Just friends._

 

Eliott leans towards Lucas, and he can see small specks and smears of color along Eliott’s body, on his hands, forearms, neck, collarbone. He can even see the top of a tattoo on his chest. So close he can smell Eliott, the same smell of a 13-year-old Eliott tightly hugging a 12-year-old Lucas goodbye.

_He shouldn’t think of that now._

 “So, you know me, huh?”, Lucas lets a smirk form, his voice teasing.

“Of course, I could never forget somebody like you, Lucas”, Eliott looks at him so earnest, so pure, and Lucas falters.

 

_Just friends. Eliott missed being his friend. Yes. Just as Lucas had missed being Eliott’s friend. Just friends._

 

“Well, I am remarkable, really”, Eliott laughs at his poor attempt at a joke and Lucas feels as if both the sun, moon and the stars are swirling inside his eyes, and wow. It really should be illegal to be that beautiful. Eliott’s laugh starts a small fire in Lucas’ heart, a different fire from the one started from his stare. This fire is smaller but burning just a bright, just simmering and warming the chambers of his heart.

Lucas smiles and stares, mesmerized, as Eliott tells of him and his friends’ adventures, of his life in Paris as an artist. Lucas hangs onto Eliott’s every word, just like 10 years ago. Enthralled of the way Eliott lights up like a damn Christmas tree, of the way Eliott lays his hand on Lucas’ thigh when he has to emphasize a point, make sure Lucas gets it. When Lucas talks about his years in lycée, elegantly skipping over the events regarding his mother, about coming out, about his life in Paris, studying and living his best life, Eliott barely blinks, his attention solely on Lucas, smiling when Lucas’ voice goes soft when he talks about living in the coloc with Manon, Mika and Lisa.

Lucas doesn’t notice, but Eliott’s smiled becomes a bit strained and tight around the eyes, when Lucas praises Yann to the heavens, calling him his soulmate, calling Yann his person, telling Yann is his number one emergency contact.

And as their laughs mingle, and their thighs touch and blue stares into grey, it’s like these 10 years apart are nothing. The familiarity of their memories make it seem as if Eliott never left. 

“- and Stella didn’t know that eggs and coffee only make diarrhea worse, so she kept eating scrambled eggs and drinking espresso for breakfast. She ended up shitting herself at work”, Eliott cackles, his eyes barely open in slits as he bended over in laughter. Lucas snorts as he imagines Eliott's sister shoveling eggs and coffee inboard until she shat herself.

 

In the town where nothing has changed, there’s not a doubt that despite their easiness in falling into conversation, talking like they used to, comfort and warmth between them, something has changed between Eliott and Lucas.

 

“Maybe we’ve walked past each other in Paris, and just didn’t see or regonize each other”

“I would always recognize you, although you would be hard to spot, you know, with you being a dwarf”

“Sure, because I’m so memorable”, Lucas plays it off as a joke, but his smile turning a bit strained.

 “Most definitely true. And also, because you’re still so beautiful”

 

_Eliott must really have missed being his friend, huh. Just friends._  

 

The way they lean into each other even when there’s no need to, no loud music. When they glance at each other for a bit too long. When Lucas lets his eyes linger on Eliott’s lips, so tempting, _just friends._ When Eliott slowly hooks his pinky with Lucas’, and spring blooms across Lucas’ cheeks, Lucas suddenly feeling so breathless, so overcome with joy he feels lightheaded.

 

Eliott is in the midst of telling Lucas a story of how he decided to pursue an education in art instead of keeping it as a hobby, when Idriss and the rest of Eliott’s friends stumble into the kitchen.

“Finally we found our little racoon-baby”, Idriss stumbles forward, nuzzling Eliott’s cheek like he was an infant. Lucas turns to the rest of the group gathering into the crowded kitchen.

A hand slides onto his shoulder, light but burning a warmth through Lucas’ shirt. Eliott gestures to his friends, introducing them once more.

“This is Sofiane, maybe Imane has talked about him”, Eliott voice light as he teases. The boy jumps forward, shaking Lucas’ hand with vigor, his eyes kind and voice soft as he greets him. Lucas can see why Imane would like this guy. He’s Lucas-Approved.

“And this dofus is Idriss”, Idriss just lift a hand in greeting, smile and eyes gentle but still more careful than Sofiane.

“And those two are our comedic duo Omar and Malik”, they rush forward, highfiving Lucas, petting his hair, firing jokes and pulling out laughter, until Lucas is wheezing.

As Lucas dries his eyes a short, blonde and familiar silhouette barrels into Lucas’ arms, Stella squealing about _Lulu, so handsome, still so short, still so cute_.

Lucas still has his arm around Stella, who starts to braid some of his hair, just like 10 years ago, when Eliott coughs tensely.

“And this, this is Lucille”, the pretty girl with the short, apparently not Lucy or Louise, gives a simple nod, curt and sharp. Her jaw clenched and her eyes tight as they shift between Eliott and Lucas before she turns around, moving towards the doorway.

“We should leave now”, her voice is like steel. Solid, not to be messed with.

 

“I’ll call you, Lulu”, Eliott winks before he is pulled out of the door.

 

The empty kitchen allows Lucas the freedom to grin.

 

_Lulu. Eliott called him Lulu._

_Guess Lucas was right. They really just did miss each other’s friendship._

_Just friends._ Only friends.


	5. New Eyes: 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody is probs reading this but whatever.  
> The chapter is finally here!!! It took me over half a year to write this goddamn chapter. Mostly because I've been having a life-crisis at the age of 21, had to find an internship and got my heart broken for the very first time,,,, all at the same time :))) Love that for me lol.  
> Me @ my university: whoever decided that I needed to take Communication and Storytelling on my 4th semester while finding an internship that is probs gonna define my lifepath,,,, ur moms a hoe 
> 
> Anyways enjoy friends <3

Lucas has seen the sun rise and set six times since Eliott had slipped out of his sight that night. That night that has haunted Lucas for six days.

_Why did he say that? Why couldn’t he be cooler? Why didn’t he tell a different joke? Is that why Eliott hasn’t called or texted him – despite saying that he would call Lucas? Not that he minds of course. Because they’re just friends. The best of friends. Buddies, amigos, homies, mecs. Lucas is totally not bitter._

And yet, plagued by the memory of Eliott’s eyes, Lucas’ heart does its best to jump out of his chest, whenever his phone gives a small ‘ping’ or plays that dreadful dubstep remix Basile set as the ringtone for every single one of his contacts. Lucas denies the way his heart lurches into a stop, when every other name except Eliott’s is displayed on the screen.

Lucas also fervently denies the alarming range of feelings that has consumed him every day since that fantastically dreadful night, giving himself and his friends an emotional whiplash. Everybody knows that Lucas Lallemant isn’t good with feelings, not his own nor others’. Maybe, sometimes on a good day he can offer emotional advice to Yann and Manon. It’s not that Lucas is emotionally stunted or unavailable. He’s just not great at understanding why or how he feels. Emotions are irrational, chaotic and unpredictable.

But Lucas isn’t stupid – confused, yes. But not stupid.

 

He knows that he had felt all-consuming happiness the morning after the party, waking up with a smile on his face despite being hungover as shit – like he was the star in a commercial. How that happiness didn’t leave him the entire day. How his smile stayed in place, even when he saw his mom bleaching the kitchen again. How he was so consumed by the happiness of knowing how Eliott looked, sounded and felt like, that he even highfived Basile **and** laughed at his joke afterwards, Yann and Arthur looking lost and confused. Even when Chloé had texted him, Lucas felt like nothing could make this tingling sensation of bliss disappear.

Lucas knows that he woke up the day after feeling his stomach lurch and churn with excitement, instantly rolling over to check his phone for a call or a text. Lucas’ knee bouncing and fingers tapping on every available surface, his eyes stuck on his phone, everything else just white noise. Excitement as he wondered what Eliott would say or write, when he finally did. Because he would surely write.

Lucas knows that he stayed hopeful the next day. _Eliott said he would call, and Eliott always used to keep his promises, especially to Lucas._ _Eliott wouldn’t lie or ghost him. Eliott wasn’t like that. Maybe Eliott had gotten sick? Or maybe he was busy?_ Eliott would definitely write before Lucas woke up the next day.

Lucas knows that he felt numbingly confused when he had gotten no texts when he woke up the next day – and Lucas also knows the slept three hours longer than he used to, knowing he hadn’t heard a buzz, a ping or that fucking Skrillex remix. _Why would Eliott say he would call -and then not do it? They were friends. And friends don’t ghost each other_. Lucas also knows his confusion turned briefly to worry. _What if Eliott was really sick? Or had gotten hurt?_ And Lucas admits that his pride dispelled the worry like a whiplash. _Lucas wasn’t the one who made a promise and then didn’t keep it. He shouldn’t be the one who worries._

Lucas knows that he woke up in the middle of the night, frustrated and angry. His palms sweaty, heart doing its best to beat its way out of his chest, mouth dry, teeth clenching and breathing rapidly. The confusion gone and only frustration left in its wake.

 

_Lucas had been so fucking excited to see that stupid fucking idiot again, missing his friend and being so fucking elated and nervous he could have shit himself when they saw each other again. Lucas had been so happy and excited to his Eli again, the person who had been his favorite person in the entire universe. And now he knows Eliott is a fucking liar. Eliott said he missed him, called him Lulu, pet his hair, hooked their goddamn pinkies like they used to, said that he could never forgot Lucas. If Eliott had missed Lucas so much, why didn’t he contact Lucas? A text saying ‘sup?’ would have been fine. And Lucas had been so excited for that text, a text with minimal effort._

 

Lucas knows that his anger never fizzled out during the day causing him to scowl at every person he met. Snapping at Yann, at his mom, at Daphné, at Manon, at Basile, at Arthur. His tone cruel and sneering, his eyes conveying an anger that his friends didn’t know the origin of. Lucas knows he was so angry he couldn’t fall asleep, his teeth grinding against each other and his eyebrows furrowed so deeply it literally hindered his sight.

 

Lucas knows he felt so fucking stupid being eager and hopeful for an interaction that never came.

Lucas knows that if Eliott contacted him, he would jump in with open arms and both legs, no hesitation. Desperate for an interaction that would show that Lucas still meant something to Eliott.

Lucas also knows that he feels unsettled by the glare Yann currently is giving him across the table, his breakfast suddenly tasting bland.

“What’s up, man? Do you have something in your eye?”, Lucas tilts his head and winks, Yann offering a small smile, a bit wonky, after a second. Lucas knows that smile, and Lucas prepares himself for the interrogation he is about to endure.

“I know you’re overthinking something. And I have a feeling its about Eliott”, Lucas nearly chokes on a piece of egg, swallowing the piece whole to avoid dying over his breakfast. Although that may be preferable at this moment.

Lucas plays it off, huffing and rolling his eyes playfully, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Are you imagining things?”. Lucas would give anything to avoid this conversation – and guiltily hopes for his mother to interrupt them, just so Yann would have to give up. Yann may be persistent in his mission for Lucas to tell his deepest thoughts but would never involve other people in Lucas’ private life without Lucas’ content.

Yann stares at him, unimpressed, “Don’t fucking lie to me. The past days you’ve been on edge. Snapping at me, your mum and our friends for just looking at you for too long and you have been snarkier than usual. Your vibes have just been off. Also, you’ve been gripping your fork so tight the last five minutes I’ve been scared it would snap in half”, Lucas sneaks a glance at his hand, the sides of the fork imprinted on his skin, red and obvious.

Silence.

Lucas doesn’t know what to say or where to begin. A lie forming on his tongue to soothe Yann’s worries.

“Please, don’t lie to me”, Yann swallows.

Suddenly the eggs on Lucas’ plate are very interesting. _The yolks are so orange – have they always been that orange? Are they ecological? From the store? Or the farm just outside the city? Or-_

“Please”. Lucas hates it when Yann begs. It goes against every best-friend instinct.

 

Lucas can feel every nerve in his body vibrating, just wanting to let it all out. Tell Yann that he feels so disappointed. In Eliott, yes. But most of all in himself.

For being overeager, excited, hopeful, happy.

For being a bad son, a bad friend, a bad human being.

For leaving his mother and blaming her for the bad things in his life.

For never forgiving his father despite Lucas doing the exact same thing his father did.

For being resentful of Eliott when he was younger because Eliott was rich, nice and smart.

Regretting losing himself in the arms of other people, who never quite felt right.

For being so desperate for love, he would chase people, exchange students who had to go home after a while, married or older men, people in closet, despite knowing they couldn’t give him what he needed.

For never allowing himself to get over Eliott leaving him.

 

Lucas doesn’t know where to begin. There’s so much to say, so many things that weighs him down with guilt and disappointment. So, he doesn’t say them all.

“I just feel so stupid”, the valley between Yann’s eyebrows deepens in confusion, and Lucas hurries to answer, “About Eliott”. Lucas swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

“I have been waiting for him to text me since the party, because I guess I’ve missed him? I haven’t seen him for years, so seeing him again made me recall some of the memories we had together and how precious he and his friendship was to me”. Lucas blinks, suddenly feelings desperate to reassure Yann of his best friend status, “not that I want him to be my best friend again! You are my best friend, and, and, and - yeah, he’s not going to b-“.

“Relax, Lucas. Take a deep breath, you’re turning blue”, Lucas can feel the stress leave his body at the smile Yann sends him.

“Okay… Yeah, I saw him and remembered how much he used to mean to me. And I guess I thought that we could be friends again. He seemed to want that too… He said he would call, but he hasn’t texted or called me since the party. So, I feel stupid for getting my hopes up and even more stupid for being disappointed”, his words are fast and rapid like they are going to disappear if he doesn’t say them instantly.

Yann leans back in his chair, lips pursed, humming and staring out the window. Lucas knows that Yann is thinking about what to say. Thoughtfulness. That is one of Lucas favorite traits of Yann’s. Lucas appreciates how Yann takes the time to think about what has been said, instead of saying the first thing that comes to mind.

“I understand how you feel stupid about your own feelings and reactions. It’s a normal human reaction when we are met with the unknown or don’t get what we expect. But you should also remember that it’s a human reaction to miss a friend and to value their time and presence in your life. That doesn’t make you stupid. It shows that you care about another person”, Yann shoots Lucas a grin, “despite you denying that you do, you little edgelord”. Lucas barks out a laugh.

“But the whole thing about Eliott not contacting you seems weird. You should have seen the way he looked at you during the party, man!”, Yann leans on his elbows, his head resting in his palm”, Are you sure you gave him the right number?”.

 

Lucas stares at him, his mind blank. Every nerve-ending is numb.

Yann’s grin falters.

 

“You did give him your number… Right?”.


End file.
